The Numerous Adventures of Mr Question Mark
by MrQuestionMark
Summary: What if the Doctor had an apprentice? But what if this apprentice was neither Time Lord or human but rather a product of the Time War, a weapon. Follows the adventures of Mr Question Mark as he tries to in his first adventure fit into his new job: a bodyguard. Will be violent and have ...colourful language, so rated T. 1st in the Mr Question Mark series.
1. Prologue

**This is my fanfiction with my OC Mr Question Mark. Incidentally, most of these chapter will be an introduction into his character and the beginining of the saga with him adn his job as a bodyguard. This will later cross-over onto Nintendo franchises. Hopefully, there will be more chapters up soon, as soon as I write them. Enjoy...well...enjoy what I have. I'M SORRYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY Y! But seriously. It's goooooooooooooooood. **

**Disclaimer: I don't own Doctor Whooooooooooooooooo. nooooooooooooooooooooooooooo ooooooooooooooooooo.**

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As a girl, Precia had always wondered what lay beyond her small isolated world of the castle she lived in. she didn't have a very good idea as she was overprotected by her father and refused her to leave the castle grounds by herself. She wasn't happy about that. After all, she was only 7 years old and VERY curious. But her father, the great king Matthew, had a very good reason to be over-protective. Precia was only seven yet she was already gaining a name that would spread over the entire cosmos. And that name was Precia of Inzalin. In the ancient Cosmosian language and texts, that directly translated as 'the beauty of the world'. And for good reason. Her blond hair reached half-way down her back and was of the utmost perfection. There was not a flaw upon her face and her hazel eyes were like stars on a clear night, bright and shone with a glowing radiance. She was fairly short and it was clear that she had a bright future ahead of her. However, the events where Precia was the main focus of was not because of herb but rather of another figure. A figure that has many names. A figure of numerous mysteries. And that figure's name was:

Mister Question Mark.

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**There will be more, don't worry. I said, DON'T WORRY! *huff, huff, huff*. **

**Review. Well, not this chapter but other chapters as well. **


	2. Chapter 1

**Finally! Stuff is happening people! We have a plot line! Also, the Doctor will be mentioned but I can't decide whether or not to actually have him included. I doubt I will though. Sorry for the unbelieveably short prologue though. I write short prologues. what can I say? Also I forgot to put this in the previous chapter but**

**Discliamer: I don't own Doctor Who. NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO! But I do own Mr Question Mark.**

**"No you don't"**

"...What? Whose speaking?"

**"Mr Question Mark of course. And you don't OWN me. I'm an individual. If you own me, that puts a label on what I am and that.."**

"Shutupshutupshutup! Well then Mr Individual"

**"Question Mark. It's Mr Question Mark. But carry on"**

"What do you suggest we do?"

**"Let the reader's read?"**

"..."

**"Sorry about that. I'm taking over. Enjoy.**

"What!"

* * *

The Beginning: Saga 1: Chapter 1

It was only 4 days after her 7th birthday. She had gotten many gifts from her family and future suitors. She was led to believe otherwise but the struggle for power and other families was obvious. She was only 7, for God's sake! She had managed to get outside and she was currently lying among the castle's gardens, a large area covered with shrubbery and greenery at all sides. The only part that lack nature's touch was a cobblestone path that wound around the garden itself. She looked at the blue cloudless sky, breathing softly. The wind blew the flowers softly against her face, a feeling that she thoroughly enjoyed. There was something that she couldn't escape though. The presents that her suitors had given her had filled her head with numerous questions. Who would she choose her future husband? Would it be pre-determined? Written in the stars that looked down from them from afar? She knew that ancient forces in her bloodline prevented her parents from dying and her ageing from 16 until she chose a suitable partner. She picked a spot among the blue and stared at it.

"Who will I choose?" she asked rhetorically.

That's when he saw it. A few centimetres from where she staring, a shape was growing larger and larger. She stood up and squinted at it. Yes, it was definitely getting larger and larger. In a matter of a second it had grown from the size of a speck of dust to the size of finger. She went wide-eyed but it was too late. The object fell from the sky and it smashed against the flowers, kicking up dirt in the process, throwing her back. Before she blacked out, he was positive she saw a blue box lying in garden.

* * *

She heard a voice. Whispers, nothing more. No figures were visible yet she sensed a presence. A powerful presence. She concentrated to what the voice was saying but she could only hear aspects of what it said.

"The Cause ... here. Never...contain me."

"Who are you?" she called to the voice. It stopped and she glanced around, hoping for an answer.

"Your Highness She's waking up!"

This time, it was a different voice that struck the air, and it was one that she knew well.

Precia opened her eyes and saw her maid, Eileen, looking at her with a look of concern. Upon staring deep into her eyes she cried out "Young Miss!" and embraced Precia as though she was her own daughter. Precia tried to push her away but to no avail.

"Now, now Eileen. Let Precia breathe at least" Eileen reluctantly let go and Precia looked at the direction the voice had come from.

A man stood in the doorway. He looked to be in his 40's and his brown eyes, black hair and facial features were ones that people had commented on before. King Matthew was a man with a reputation of being able to look in to the hearts of men and judging their character. Next to him was a woman who looked to be the same age. Her blond hair was shorter than Precia's, only reaching to her neck and her blue eyes looked over in concern to where Precia lay. The woman hurried over and stroked her hair, moving it out of her eyes.

"Look at what's happened to your hair. It's everywhere." The woman turned to Eileen. "I'll have you look into that, Eileen." Eileen bowed in agreement and Precia chuckled underneath her breath.

"Good to see you too, mum" she said. The woman averted her gaze from Eileen to Precia and smiled.

"I suppose it is." She commented before pulling her into a hug that was more life-threatening than Eileen's. The man at the door sighed before stating nonchalantly "You should let go of her Halma before she chokes."

The woman released Precia who gasped for air and looked accusingly at the man.

"Like you're one to talk, Matthew. You were the most worried. Having that boy flogged..." Matthew ignored her and strode over to Precia and bent down so that they were eye-level.

"Do you remember anything that happened?" he asked. His eyes were deadly serious, a look that Precia had rarely seen. She was taken aback at the remark. She had expected her father to be a part of the reunion that was taking place but she knew that if he knew that anyone had hurt her, he would stop at nothing to see that they were brought to justice. But the question had some merit. What had happened? What was that box that had fallen from the sky? She fumbled over her words before saying:

"I remember that I was in the garden. There..." she paused thinking of the best way to put what she had seen. "there was a box. A blue box. It fell; hit the ground and that's all I remember."

Matthew looked back at Halma with a worried face.

"You see Matthew? He had nothing to do with it. He was probably just having a stroll in the garden when it happened."

"But his presence is suspicious enough, not to mention his eyes. He was trespassing! He-"

"Who?" Both Halma and Matthew looked at Precia who had already sat up. They had been constantly chatting about _him_ and Precia wanted to know what they were talking about.

Matthew went back to his squatting position, cleared his throat before asking: "Was there anyone else in the garden at the time?"

Precia was confused. The garden was private property and monitored everyone who entered and left. Any trespassers were immediately apprehended.

"No". She replied. "Why do you ask?"

Matthew glanced back at Halma who shrugged her shoulders. "Nothing new. _He _didn't say anything either." She commented.

"What is it dad?" Precia asked.

"Precia, are you sure that they was no-one?" he asked, turning back to her.

"Yes. 100% positive" was her reply.

"Well...when you were found there was a boy around 15 I'd say and he was lying not far from where you were. He had a small cut on his head but it was nothing serious."

"What happened to him?" asked Precia.

"Well..."

"Well, your father felt that he had something to do with the incident. So after the boy regained consciousness, he was flogged. Repeatedly." Said Halma with a disapproving glance at Matthew.

"And?" asked Precia.

"Nothing" said Matthew. "We were at it for 3 hours. Didn't say anything. Not a word or plea to stop. Just silence."

Precia was immediately intrigued. She had seen a flogging once. It involved getting metal that was stuck in a furnace lashing against human skin. She had gotten nightmares for days after the experience. And this boy hadn't said a word? Interesting...

"Well, I guess he'll just have to spend the day in the dungeons. We'll talk with him tomorrow.: said Matthew.

Precia sat in silence. What did he have to do with what happened? Was he even related to the incident? Or the blue box?

"Can I see him?" she blurted out.

The surprise in Matthew's eyes was clear. His eyes narrowed but he let the issue go.

"Sure, but I don't think you'll get anything out of it. I certainly didn't"

Precia hugged her father. "Thanks dad!" She exclaimed. "Is it OK if I go now?"

Matthew's objection to the idea was clear but he knew his daughter's stubborn attitude mean that she would go anyway, regardless of what he said.

"Of course it is." He said. He stood up and left the room along with Halma and Eileen as Precia rushed to her closet to pick out a dress.

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A few minutes later, a girl wearing a yellow dress decorated with cute red flowers that covered her pink joggers and socks reached the entrance to the dungeons. Because the mysterious boy was a trespasser, he didn't pose much a threat so there weren't any guards around to monitor the dungeons or the boy. She entered the dark entrance and went down the spiral staircase, her way illuminated by torches attached to the wall. The dungeon was perhaps the only place in the entire castle that stayed alight. The torches were made of a material that always burned and never wore out. Her anxiousness to seeing the prisoner made her race down the staircase, one of the choices that were better that she hadn't made. She lost her balance and tripped, flinging out an arm to maintain her balance at the wall. It scraped against the cold, hard stone. She winced in pain as tiny fragments attached to her palm, scraping her skin. Catching her breath for less than a moment she walked down the rest of the way. It occurred to her that she could've taken the elevator that had been installed last week but she hadn't considered the thought in all of her excitement. The stairs reached into a large corridor that with lined with cells on the opposite side. There were 5 cells in all with the one in front of her being the first in a line. The elevator doors were lined with the 4th cell but it was what she saw in the second that caught her interest. She couldn't see as clearly as she wished but she was sure that the boy had looked at her when she walked in. Bending over to catch her breath, she walked slowly to where he was. He was leaning against the balls joining the 2nd and 3rd cells. He was dressed very strangely indeed. He was wearing black shoes, white socks, log, black trousers, a black blazer, white, buttoned shirt and a black necktie that was slightly askew. It looked as though he was dressed for a special occasion rather than being locked up. He had black hair and rough features, the thing that stood out being the bruise on his left cheek. His legs were spread out, his hands were by his sides and his eyes were closed.

"You know." He began in a smooth controlled voice. "Your father would be upset if you fell down those stairs. It might lead to-"his mouth twitched "-unnecessary assumptions."

She was confused. How had he known that she had tripped? Had he somehow escaped and seeing her, ran back down the stairs? No, if that was the case, he would have taken the elevator.

"How did you know?" she asked. His head turned towards her and he opened his eyes. Precia stepped back in shock. She remembered how her parents had discussed the boy's eyes but she hadn't expected anything like this. They were different colours. The left was a bright blue and the right was red. She thought of a thousand additional questions to ask him but before she could, he spoke.

"The knees of your dress." He said pointing. "They were clean when you came in but now they're dirty."

She looked down at her knees, squinting to get a better look. Indeed, on the knees of her dress, there was a faint patch of dirt.

"Obviously" the boy continued. "when you were catching your breathe, you transferred the dirt from your hand onto the dress. As for how I knew that you fell, there are scraped of the hand sloping down. You held out your hand to support you as you tripped. Hence, the dirt s from the stairwell."

Precia stared at the boy, who after he was finished, diverted his attention to the ceiling. Her brain tried to process what he had said. It had made perfect sense but to see such tiny details from where he sat was quite impressive. Even she had to squint to see it up close.

"You must have amazing eyesight to see the marks on my dress"

The boy said nothing and continued to look at the ceiling. Precia felt a touch of agitation. She was usually the centre of attention and not used to being ignored. Clearing her throat, she tried a different approach in order to get the boy to talk and answer the questions she had prepared.

"My name is-"

"I know who you are" was his response, sharp and blunt. "I was just beaten regarding you."

Precia looked at him with a glare. "You're doing that thing you just did, aren't you? OK, how did you figure it out? My hairstyle or dress? It is exclusive to the castle?" she flicked her hair to emphasise but also to grab his attention. The boy looked at her and he raised one of his eyebrows.

"You're rather full of yourself, you know that?" he commented.

Precia was shocked. Sure she had been insulted before but never by someone who she had only met for less than half an hour.

"As for whom you are, a small girl in a castle wearing that get-up? Please."

Precia felt a twitch of anger. The nerve of this guy! He didn't even know her and was clearly insulting her.

"OK" she countered, crossing her arms. "Well since you can tell me about myself, it's my turn to tell something about you. You think you know everything and you always get your way." Her nostrils flared as she finished, exhaling.

The boy continued to look at her, clearly amused. "Doesn't that describe you? And also, since your not denying my claim, I assume that means you acknowledge that you're full of yourself?"

Precia reeled back at the remark he had just made. Here she was, trying to be polite and he feels that he can say what he wanted.

"Fine" she said in resignation. "I thought you might want some company but I see that's not the case. She turned and began to walk to the elevator.

"Funny." She heard the boy say.

"What is it?" she spat.

"Well, unless I'm mistaken, you probably wanted to ask what I was doing in the garden. Very popular question these days."

She spun around, hoping that he would continue.

"But I'll tell you what I told your father missy. Bite me." the boy said with a devious smile.

Precia screamed inside of herself and pressed the up button on the elevator panel.

"Just so you know, I'm not coming down here again until you apologise."

The elevator opened and she stepped inside.

"Pretty hard to do that since I'm, you know, locked up." The boy commented.

Precia paused, reflecting on the idiocy of what she had said.

"And as for introduction, Precia, you many call me Mr Question Mark." The door closed as he finished and there was a small hum as the elevator ascended.

"Mr Question Mark!? What kind of name is that?!"she yelled in the confines of the elevator,

Mr Question Mark lay in the same position as he had been throughout the entire conversation, still looking at the ceiling. He smirked.

"She'll be back" he assured himself.

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**So what did you think? the author's tied up right now so he can't come to the phone right now...wait. What's that? You want people to review and wait for more chapters? OK? Did you get that? Good.**

**Review if you please.**


	3. Chapter 2

Yadda, yadda, yadda. Oh wait! You're still here. Sorry. Please update your reviews as usual and...

**What the? How did you get out? **

Crap! He found me! Noooooooooooooooooo! Disclaimer: I don't own Doctor Whoooooooooooooooooo

**...You heard the man. Enjoy.**

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The Beginning: Chapter 2

Precia couldn't sleep that night. The boy, Mr Question Mark, was just too absurd so she assumed that he was lying, had hinted that he knew what had transpired in the garden. She remembered his alternate coloured eyes. They seemed strange to her, distant, a representation of the world she didn't yet know. She had convinced herself that there was a large, fantastic story behind it, probably a conspiracy. Then there was his clothing, a simple suit. What was that about? But most importantly, who has he? He didn't seem very frightened, as a matter of fact, apart from his eyes, he looked perfectly normal. There was a hint of normality despite the fact of how weird he had appeared. What was that about? He had had perfectly aligned eyebrows-black just like his hair. His hair looked combed despite the fact that he had been beaten and he had an average sized nose and mouth. He looked pretty tall and seemed to be around 15 or 16. How did someone like that end up face down in the royal gardens? She remembered the conclusions he had drawn about her from her dress. All these thoughts tumbled in her head and she pondered them. What was she going to do about him?

She reached a decision.

The next day, she had gotten in the elevator instead of going down those accursed steps, after seeing her father about something important.

Boy was that kid going to be surprised, she thought to herself. She reached the prison level and found her listening to him whistle and sing a tune that she had heard before.

"Always look on the bright side of life" he whistled the tune after it and what about to continue but Precia interrupted him.

"I talked to my father about you." She said. The boy stopped and turned his head and looked disappointed.

"Second verse" he mumbled to himself as she approached. "What did he say?" he asked in a normal voice as she stood in front of his cell.

Precia shook her head and put on her best devious smile. She had even practiced. "If you want to know what he said, you'll have to answer my questions"

The boy arched an eyebrow. "Blackmail? Interesting" he commented. "Well, fire away, I'm not going anywhere."

"What's your name?" she asked.

The boy rolled his eyes. "Seriously? I told you."

She scoffed. "That's not a real name."

Mr Question Mark gave her a dark look. "It's the name I chose. If you don't like it, tough. Go have a cry."

Precia frowned at the boy's rudeness as well as the answer. She was expecting him to have a name, not a collection of words. She would of been happy if he lied, but he stuck with the 'Mr Question Mark' story.

"You'll get used to it." He added. "Many people have. Myself included."

She wondered who these other people were but she didn't question any further.

"So what were you doing in the garden?" she asked. The boy looked at the ceiling. After a few seconds, he stood up and started to pace, his finger underneath his nose, rubbing. Precia watched in wonder as he faced, wondering what was going on in his head.

"I assume you're going to be there when I get asked by your father, that question?" he asked. Precia nodded.

"Then that's when you'll find out. I dislike having to repeat myself." He answered and continued to pace.

She blinked but understood his reasoning. She spotted a chair against one of the walls, retrieved it and sat in it, looking at the pacing boy. She cleared her throat and readied her next question.

"What was that box I saw?" she asked. Mr Question Mark stopped and looked at her. She froze, unsure of what he was going to do next. She was only 7.

"Judging by the question –the 'I saw' bit- it hasn't been found." He said, Precia almost detecting relief in his voice.

"It?" she asked.

Mr Question Mark paused and shook his head. "Absolutely right" he said waving a hand. "She. She hasn't been found yet." He approached the cell door and looked down at the young princess. She stared back, fascinated by his gaze. It was so piercing, almost as though he wasn't looking at her but rather what she was made of. Almost like her father being able to judge someone's character. He narrowed his eyes. "No-one believes you, do they?" he asked quietly.

Precia looked at him, reflecting on what he said. When she had mentioned it to her parents, they hadn't replied, talking about something else. Therefore, they didn't want to talk about the blue box, and therefore…

They didn't believe her.

"No" she mumbled, looking down at the ground.

Mr Question Mark scoffed. "Then there's no point telling you to keep quiet about it." He said. He turned and faced the cell wall, back facing Precia. "So why are you really here?" he asked, breaking the awkward moment.

Precia looked at him with gratitude, or rather at his back. What? His back needed it. "You don't mess about" she replied, a smile on her lips.

"Oh no. I'm the biggest troll you've ever known. This conversation just got boring." He countered.

She frowned and in her infinite wisdom, decided to come out with her true purpose.

"I'm going to escort you to my father's chambers. Where you will be questioned." She said.

Mr Question Mark turned around, grinning. "Then there's no time to waste, is there?"

* * *

Precia always felt nervous standing in front of her father's chambers. Mr Question Mark's presence didn't help either. His calm demeanour and curiosity was unnerving. On the way to the chambers, he had stopped in front of one of the rooms and stared long and hard at it.

"What's this?" he had asked.

Precia had stopped tapping her foot impatiently and frowned. "A guest room. Belonged to my grandfather, but my father hasn't used it at all. Why?"

Mr Question Mark had turned towards the door and stared at it more before walking forward leaving Precia to wonder what it had all been about.

He could tell that she was nervous. The way that she clenched her hand into a tight fist to the way that her breathing had gotten slower.

"Nervous?" he asked coolly, looking through the windows opposite the door. He heard her collar ruffle as she turned her head, squinting as she faced the sunlight. He turned towards her.

She smiled. "Well, it's good to know that I have a friend nearby this time."

Mr Question Mark arched an eyebrow. Friend? This time? He understood that perhaps she was isolated because of her status as princess, but him? As a friend? And this time? The statement struck him as odd.

"Doesn't the king employ bodyguards?" he asked.

"Not really." She replied. "He said it was up to my judgement to choose one if I wanted one, but he said if I haven't chosen when I'm 15, he'll choose for me."

Mr Question Mark shook his head. "Politics" he mumbled. "Shall we get in?" he offered.

Precia gulped, her heart racing. One of these days, she would have to get used to this. She reluctantly approached the door and proceeded to open it.

The room before Precia and Mr Question Mark was massive. The walls were lined with numerous windows that almost reached from the floor to the ceiling. In between them and the middle of the room were numerous pillars of marble, holding up the roof of stain glass. The image on it was of an Earth religion known as Christianity. It depicted the person known as 'God' spreading light all around the window. The Cosmosians knew it as different; the creation of the universe. A long blood-red carpet ran down the middle of the room and stopped at an elevated podium with 3 seats. The middle one and the one to the left of it were occupied, leaving the right one vacant.

"Precia" boomed the voice of the man in the middle, it echoing around the room in its silence.

"Echo, echo, echo" said Mr Question Mark silently in the short break Matthew took before speaking again. Precia fought to prevent a smile from going across her lips.

"Come here my child." He said. She did as she was told, closely followed by Mr Question Mark who was looking through the palace windows at the buildings on either side. The King held up a hand. "Not the prisoner."

Mr Question Mark looked at Matthew and put his hands in his pants pockets and looked around. Precia smirked a bit when she heard Mr Question Mark mutter "The prisoner has a name"

She approached the chair to the right of Matthew and sat down in it. "The prisoner may no approach the Family" stated Matthew.

Two guards, positioned at the door Mr Question Mark had just walked through, grabbed Mr Question Mark by the arms and dragged him closer to the King. They were garbed in blue robes and held menacing looking spears in hands not occupied. Mr Question Mark looked between the two guards and at their spears.

"Technology has improved but you still use spears. Budget not looking good?" he asked innocently, earning a glare from one of the guards to his left.

He was thrown to the ground and the guards walked back to the door.

"Now." Began the King. "to business." He placed an elbow on his armrest and leaned against a closed fist staring at Mr Question Mark.

Mr Question Mark got up from the ground and brushed himself off. He met the King's eye contact. Out of the corner of her eye she saw both her father and her mother shift uncomfortably. Perhaps it was perhaps because of his eyes? From Precia's vantage point, Mr Question Mark's eyes gleamed in a devious fashion, looking as though he was up to mischief. "I must thank you for you hospitality, Your Highness. Dungeons were four star. Food could have been better though, as I didn't get any. Just a big serve of flogging. Didn't react well to my stomach" He gave the King a small smile and Precia thought that she saw him twitch. She understood it. Mr Question Mark had just openly mocked the King. Did he not understand the importance of treating him with respect?

Matthew pretended to ignore his comments. "I want to know about what happened in the garden. I asked you under harsh terms because I was worried for my daughter's safety. For that I apologise. Deeply. But as she is fine, I will ask again under more civilised circumstances."

Mr Question Mark arched an eyebrow, the one above his left blue eye. "Well, well, well. An apology. Don't get that every day." His hands were out of his pockets and he waved a hand in the air. "But before I answer any of your questions tell me, who knows about this meeting?"

Matthew looked at Mr Question Mark with spite. He asked the questions to the prisoners not the other way around. But he did have to be civilised. "Only the people in this room. It was very last minute. Although Precia's maid did care for the injured Precia, she does not know about this meeting. Not even my advisor knows."

Mr Question Mark crossed his arms and closed his eyes, mulling over what the King had said. After a while he opened them. "Sorry Your Highness. I'm not liked in many circles, and some ovals. Practically the whole polygon agency has someone who hates me. Can't be too sure where they're hiding. You were saying?"

There was an awkward silence. Was Mr Question Mark suggesting that the Castle had been infiltrated? All of the staff were handpicked and their loyalties lay with the King. It was impossible for a traitor to exist. And also, he was not liked in some circles? What circles?

Matthew blinked before answering Mr Question Mark's question. This kid was an oddball alright. Not saying a sound while being flogged and then talking about polygons? He regained himself. "Ah yes. Could you perhaps detail the events that led to you being found in the garden?"

"Ah yes. Well, this is going to be a long tale. It started with-"

He never finished. There was a bang to his left, and a crash of glass. He remembered something entering his skull, probably something metal, moving at a high speed. He blacked out and it didn't take a genius to deduce to figure out that he had been shot.

Precia wasn't sure what had happened. She heard a bang, then a window to her right broke apart. Mr Question Mark's head jolted to her left and he collapsed. Her mother screamed and her father sat up quickly, obviously startled. The 2 guards at the door stood frozen, unsure of how to react. He just sat there, staring at the limp form of what was previously Mr Question Mark, the wound facing away from her. Her father went over to his body with a swiftness that was only related to having been in situations like this before. He bent down and touched the boy's neck.

"Holy royal gods" he swore. "He's alive." He looked at the two guards. "Hurry! Get this boy to the infirmary!" he shouted, pointing at them. As he moved his hand back, it brushed against Mr Question Mark's head, moving it slightly. That was the first time that Precia had seen such a wound. It wasn't like in the crime shows where there was a small hole where the bullet had entered but a mess. The skin bent inwards in a grotesque fashion and it was stained with blood rushing down his face. His eyes were open and devoid of expression, staring into space. She fainted and joined Mr Question Mark in the land of darkness, the only difference being that she wasn't bleeding. Not that it could have been seen. After all, it had soaked into the carpet, it being a familiar shade of red.

* * *

**...you SHOT me!? **

...What? you'll be OK. I've already written how you are OK. Also, if you are wodnering what typeof being Mr Question Mark is (from the summary), you'll just have to wait. Bwahahahaha.

**I cab't believe it. He shot me. killed me off. I'm, I'm the main character and I'm *sniff***

You're notbloodly dead. REview if you please.

***sniff***

for crying out loud!


	4. Chapter 3

Last time: Mr Question Mark had just been shot by an unknown assassin. As such he can't do this commentary this that we do. And I could just ramble on all day and he wouldn't be able to do anything. I'm not sorry but he will be missed. *sob, sob* Anyway, this is a continuation of this.

Disclaimer: I don't own Doctor Who

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The Beginning: Chapter 3

There was pain. Lots of it. Mr Question Mark had felt pain before. Real pain. Not the pain you get from scraping your knee or tripping over. Real, pain. Painful pain. But it was nothing compared to The Day. The Day was much more worse. Occasionally, he would remember the pain he had faced on The Day and it still haunted him. He had never felt pain like that before. But this was close. He could still feeling it, coursing through his body like the blood in his veins. But that begged the question: was he still conscious? He had just been shot, but on some level, was there a part of his brain that still registered rational thought? Only one way to find out, he thought. Solve his own shooting.

He was hit by a bullet. Obviously but it was a place to start. He vaguely remembered feeling the tip of the bullet before blacking out. So, the bullet was narrow with a long tip. Next, the shot. The window that had shattered was from his left and he tried to remember what he had seen, when looking through the windows; not much, just a couple of buildings. Judging from the bullet, it was probably a professional hit, so the only place where a professional would shoot from where there was a good shot and ability to flee would be a rooftop. Only one specific rooftop stuck out to him. Location: confirmed. Also, no-one would have had time to hire a professional in the short amount of time. Only a select amount of people knew about the meeting and had enough time to organise the hit. Suspects: confirmed. Next, the nature of the shooter. Being able to bring a weapon within 10 kilometres from the Cosmosian palace was impossible, it was too heavily guarded. So it was probably a gun that had to be assembled from smaller pieces. Mind you, he had managed to smuggle a handgun in but that was different entirely. So, cocky and wanting to prove themselves to their employer. This was a guess, but it was likely that the bullet he had been hit with had its own carving to authenticate the shooting as being from the shooter. Shooter: confirmed.

Location: The rooftop of a building approximately 400m from where he was when he was shot.

Suspects: The Family and the 2 guards manning the door.

Shooter: T.C Carrell. AKA Travis Craft Carrell, a known associate of _Him. His _connection to the shooter meant that the suspect and _Him _had met at a certain point. The Family would not be related with such a shady figure such as _Him _so that also narrowed down the suspects.

Case closed

Mr Question Mark opened his eyes and sat up with a jolt. He was lying in a room unfamiliar to him. It was painted white and in front of him was a large wardrobe that looked like it had just been brushed down. There was a small window on the wall to his right. The bed he was in was also white. White sheets, white pillow, white everything. There was an unfamiliar tension across his head, most likely from a bandage to prevent bleeding. He was still dressed in is suit to which he was relieved. To his left…there was a person. She looked about 16 and was sitting in a chair that looked to be a bit close to the bed. Intimate relation with him? He looked at the girl. Pretty face, short blond hair that was too short for a girl and hazel eyes. She stood up in fright and back away. He looked closer at the yes, a sense of familiarity hitting him, though he couldn't remember from where. He got out from the right side of the bed checking himself. Ad anything been removed from him? After finding out that he was the same from when he entered the Cosmosian empire.

"H-How?" stuttered the girl. Mr Question Mark looked at her.

"Guards. When I was shot. Where?" he kept his sentences short to avoid wasting time.

"Where? What?" she countered

Mr Question Mark ran his hands through is hair. "Nononononono. Where! Not what! Is that right? Whowhatwhenwherewhoowwhy. Yes, where." He looked at her for an answer.

"Um. King's chamber's?" she said, it being more of a question than an answer.

"Brilliant"

He ran out of the room and looked left and right down the corridor. He had walked through there before. He was sure of it. He turned around and closed the door, ignoring the look that girl still inside of the room gave him. He stepped back. Yes. It was the room that he stopped to look at when Precia had shown him around. When he had first walked past, he thought he had heard _her _voice coming from it. Now he knew why. It was because the room was important. Housed him for the time that he was out. So, if this was the room…..

He ran to his right, ignoring the commands to stop from the girl to stop. He went through the mental map he had placed in his head of the palace and followed it to the King's chambers. He skid to a halt and kicked the door open.

"I'm baaaaaaaaaaaaaack!" he cried. "Damn. I've always wanted to say that."

* * *

The guards reacted almost instantly. The one to Mr Question Mark's right jabbed the spear towards Mr Question Mark's gut by he stepped back and grabbed the spear with both hands. He pulled it out of the soldier's grasp and pulled it back, hitting the guard's jaw. The guard was flung back from the force of the blow. The other guard reacted the same way. He jabbed with his spear, almost a fraction slower than the other guard, but it was all that he needed. Using the captured spear, Mr Question Mark spun it around and slammed it on the other guard's head. He was flung to the floor and Mr Question Mark leaned against the captured spear.

The fight was over before it had begun.

"That was it?" he asked and dropped the spear before walking up to the podium. The two guards groaned from the fight and slowly sat up, too dazed to think. The stunned girl from the room followed Mr Question Mark into the chambers, stepping over the guards as she did so. Mr Question Mark got a look at the window where Carrell's bullet had gone through as well as the estimated location of the shot. The window had been fixed and the location of the shot was one that was perfect for someone's of Carrell's skills. He looked away from the window to the King and Queen of the Cosmosian Empire. They were both as white as sheets. Mr Question Mark smiled to himself before turning around.

"You might want to get those two." He said, instructing the teenager. "One of them is responsible for my shooting."

"WHAAAAAAAAATTTT!?" she exclaimed. Halma and Matthew had similar results, along the lines of "That's preposterous!" and "How can you say someone so ridiculous?"

Mr Question Mark rolled his eyes and opened his hands in a friendly gesture. "What happened to civilised circumstances?" asked Mr Question Mark, arching an eyebrow.

Matthew flushed with anger at the remark. "Now you see here." He said in a voice that leaked authority.

"NO!" countered Mr Question Mark, his voice loud in the halls and almost just as full of authority as Matthew's. "YOU SEE HERE! I"VE HAD A REALLY TOUGH DAY! I LANDED IN A GRADEN, GOT BEATEN AND THEN WAS SHOT! NOW SIT DOWN _YOUR HIGHNESS _BEFORE I REAK BOTH YOUR LEGS MAKING SURE THAT SITTING DOWN IS THE ONLY THING YOU EVER DO.

The absolute authority and loudness of is voice made Matthew stumble. No-one had ever spoken to him like that before. No-one.

"Thank you. Since you're not going to co-operate, I'll have to do the job myself." Mr Question Mark stormed past the teenager who looked just as frightened at Mr Question Mark's outburst as her father was as picked up both guards by the hems of their robes. He walked them forward and threw them to the ground in front of the King.

"Now. Let's determine whodunit." Then in a swift motion, Mr Question Mark reached into the back of his pants and pulled out a handgun, a Berretta 92. He didn't even take time to aim. He just fired at the guard who was stationed at the right side of the door. The gunshot echoed in the hall and the guard slumped back, not moving at all. No-one moved at all, the 4 souls still alive, waiting to see who would be next.

"Now." Said Mr Question Mark in a voice too casual for someone who had just committed murder. "You're probably wondering what the hell that was all about. No, it wasn't because of revenge. It was to eliminate one of the suspects. Mr Question Mark, gun still in hand, bent down and lifted the hood of the guard he had just shot. What resembled a human face was wide with shock but what stood out was the hole in the forehead of the man. Which was sparking and releasing short bursts of electricity. The teenager took a step back from the sight.

"An android?!" she shouted. "Philip is an android?!"

Mr Question Mark turned to her and pointed the gun at her. She froze and her heart stopped beating. "Exactly."

"Huh?"

"Exactly. This guard is an android. The way he moved when I came in was to sudden and fast. There's no way a human could react to an alien situation in such a fast response time. Also, when he dragged me to the podium here, there was a faint gleam on the surface of his skin that was akin to sunlight shining on metal." He was waving the gun about in his hand that most of the attention was on it rather than on the speech.

"So, the narrows down the suspects pool to a suspect puddle. Population: one." Mr Question Mark turned and pointed the gun down to the other guard. "So, what happened to your buddy?" Everyone turned to look at the guard on the floor. "Someone had to get his skin from somewhere. And the only people who actually had the chance to access that man's skin was people he trusted. And I think a colleague." Mr Question Mark finger tightened on the trigger. "is someone he would trust greatly." The finger tightened even more but not the whole way.

"P-Paul?" The voice was from the Queen, Halma. "What is he talking about?" the way that her voice was shaking yet she still felt the authority to take control of the situation; Mr Question Mark liked her a lot.

'Paul' shifted at the question but the figure under the hood never left the gun's barrel. "It-It wasn't supposed to be this way." He finally said.

"Seriously?" said Mr Question Mark, displeasure clear in his voice. "That's the story you're going with? It wasn't supposed to be this way? Well, this way you describe resulted in a friend of yours being killed. Do you want me to describe a skinning? One of this perfection?" Mr Question Mark gestured to the body of the android with his free hand. "In order for the skin not to dry up, it has to be done when the person is alive. I imagine that there was a whole lot of screaming. Too much not to be noticed I'd say. So, Paul, how much blood was there on our clothes? How many days did you take off? Where was the body-"

"STOP! FOR GOD'S SAKE, STOP!" yelled Paul in the hall. He stood up and breathed heavily. There was a quiet silence before Paul did anything else. And what he did: was laugh. It was subtle at first but then went into a high-pitched laugh.

I apologised to Philip. I really did. But when you came, I just wanted to please the master so badly. Philip was the sacrifice in order for that to happen. Your death, Mr Question Mark. You don't know how much I celebrated that day. And all of the days after that. And these idiots-" Paul gestured to the Family and the girl "didn't even realise the most obvious thing about you."

"Wh-What's that?" asked the girl.

"OH MY GOD! REALLY!?" Paul took a deep breath, eyes still on the gun barrel. "He doesn't age. How long has it been, since that day? How much time-?

"How long?" asked Mr Question Mark. "What in the world are you talking about?"

Paul's head tilted a bi so it was looking at Mr Question Mark. Probably. It was hard to tell with the hood on. He chuckled.

"Well, well, well. The great Mr Question Mark doesn't know, Well, let me inform you. It's been 9 years to the day since you were shot.

Mr Question Mark stared at Paul. 9 years. A comatose state for 9 years? He hadn't really noticed since the King and Queen were prevented from ageing after their only child heir was born, so it was to be expected. But that meant….

His mind went back to the small girl, he had seen not minutes ago, but in reality in was 9 years. 9 whole years. The girl had looked around 6 or 7 and add 9 years….

She'd be 15 or 16. With hazel eyes and blond hair. Just like the girl who has right behind him.

He kept his gaze on Paul and didn't say anything. The silence lingered until Mr Question Mark had the courage to say something, but not to the girl. To Paul. "After all, these years, I've been lying in a bed and you did nothing?"

Pal made a sound underneath his hood. "Didn't have to. _He _assured me that you wouldn't wake up. _He _was wrong. You're standing in front of me now. So I have the obligation to screw him over as well. _His _name is-"

Mr Question Mark's eyes went wide at the word name and he flung himself onto the ground, tackling the girl behind him as he did so. It was the second time that someone had been shot in the Royal Hall, but this time, the man actually died. His head disappeared in a mess of red all of it flying forward. Bits of it flew onto Mr Question Mark's blazer but he didn't notice. As soon as he had tackled the girl, he spun around to see the head explode. He observed, as the body fell and the Queen screamed, that most of the damage was on the front side of the face. That meant that the bullet had come from the same said that it had, 9 years ago. It was a gamble, but if Mr Question Mark was right, he could take down of _His _top guns. He ran to the same window to find it shattered, again and he saw the shape of a man on the building of the other side, 400 metres away. Carrell. Still holding the gun, he aimed, gripped the gun with both of his hands and fired the gun.

The shot echoed in the hall and all eyes were drawn from what was left of Paul the door guard to Mr Question Mark, the kid wearing a suit. He was unsure if Carrell had known that he was coming, but if he did, he made no note of it. The bullet ailed through the air and the only confirmation Mr Question Mark had that it hit its target as the fact that one moment Carrell was there and the next, he had disappeared in a mess of red and grey.

Mr Question Mark lowered the gun and put it back in its rightful place, underneath his shirt and at the back of his trousers. He was breathing heavily. In a few moments, he had just let two men die, one by his own hand. He had always realised that once you pledged allegiance to _Him _there was no going back. But still. He was sure that the Doctor would be ashamed of him. Hell, he felt ashamed of himself. He turned to look at the boy of the former door guard, ignoring the open jaws of the onlookers. His limp form was one of many that Mr Question Mark had seen, put there himself or caused. It disgusted him. He averted his gaze from the body to see Halma and Matthew looking at him with a look that he had seen many times, one of both fear and uncertainty. He turned to the teenager whom he had first seen when he had woken up. It didn't take him long to guess who it was.

Precia's face looked at him with a hollow expression. There was no life in it, nor was there judgement. Just hollowness, the events still catching up to her. They would. And he would rather not be there when they did.

"I'm sorry." Was all he said then he turned his back and walked to the door.

* * *

**I'm glad that I survived. Aren't you?**

P-Please let go of my hand. I need it to type your stories.

**Oh, I'm sorry. I mean you don't need me for this commentary. And there's also the fact that you typed these up around 6 months ago so you have no idea what happens aye?**

th-That's not ENTIRELY true.

*the next scene was censored because if it was shown, it would be an M fanfiction, whch it isn't. It is T,

OKOKOKOK. I'm sorry. But I know who lives and dies and stuff. Besides, you came out OK.

*Censored*

**Review if you please.**

M-Mercy...


	5. Chapter 4

Final installment of the introduction to Mr Question Mark. the next story will be detailed below, so there you go.

**The author's disclaimer is that he doesn't own Doctor Who**

Oh! My disclaimer! I almost forgot it! Anyway... (sees line above)

MR QUESTION MAAAAAAAAAARK!

**Enjoy.**

* * *

The Beginning: Chapter 4

Precia snapped to attention the moment Mr Question Mark had spoken. She had waited 9 years to wake up, often visiting when she was younger but the visits had dwindled as time progressed. She had gotten older, gotten friends, changed. Yet, Mr Question Mark had stayed the same. It wasn't true what Paul had said, she had noticed. But she just hadn't said anything, for fearing of losing a friend, her first. She had hoped that on some level that he and she were the same, both unable to age after the age of 16 due to a bloodline 'ability'. She had even investigated Mr Question Mark herself but the search had turned up empty. There was no record of Mr Question Mark anywhere. He didn't exist. So he had become her private 'counsellor' of a sort. A person whom she could always depend on to listen (even though he didn't) and would never judge her (even though he couldn't). Even though she didn't want to admit it, his simple presence seemed to make her light up even in the darkest of times, but that was only when she was older. On the same day every year, she had stayed by his bedside, hoping that he would wake up, but also hoping that he wouldn't. Because then he would never leave. But now, he had woken up (while making a lot of noise and possible a scandal involving infiltration rumours) and had no reason to stay. He would leave.

"Wait!" she called. Mr Question Mark's retreating footsteps stopped.

"Paul. He was talking about _Him. _Who is _He_?" she asked.

Silence lingered. Mr Question Mark didn't even turn around when he answered. ""Let's just say he doesn't do parties. Dedicated himself to 'taking me down'." He continued to walk before stopping and turning to Matthew. "Word of warning Your Highness. After today's events, _He'll _probably think that your affiliated with me. Better get better security. I recommend it."

He turned back and walked to the door. He opened it and walked through…

"Hold it" said the King. Mr Question Mark rolled his eyes. He was so close.

"Do you know much about this mysterious figure?" he asked. Mr Question Mark gave him an exasperated look.

"_He _wants to kill me. I think it's a reasonable deduction to say a lot. Where are you going with this?" Mr Question Mark narrowed his eyes when he finished.

Matthew glanced down to the body of Paul and looked away. He took a breath and stared at Mr Question Mark. "I want you to protect my daughter. I doubt I'll find someone with as much experience as you do in this field."

Mr Question Mark stared at the King. He was going to reject him but an idea popped into his head. Working for the Empire would have benefits. And Precia would just have to find a partner to which she would spend the rest of her life. And the bloodline 'ability' of hers would probably activate soon, so she would be able to protect herself… A short-term arrangement where everybody wins.

"A few condition."

Matthew arched an eyebrow.

"You forget what happened in the garden 9 years ago. No questions will be brought to me about my identity or what species I am. No exceptions"

Matthew was reluctant to do so. The incident in the garden was the reason for Mr Question Mark being brought to the palace in the first place. And he doubted without the questions he had just denied, he would never get an insight into what he was. But to protect Precia…..

"Understood."

Mr Question Mark nodded his head. "I'll take the room, I was in for the last 9 years." He looked down at the body of Paul and the android. "Also, I suggest you vacate the room for the time being. It'll take some time to clean that mess up."

* * *

Although it took 4 hours for the bodies to be removed and the stains to be removed from the carpet (even though they were practically the same colour) the memory of what happened was burned into the mind of the Family. After Mr Question Mark had washed his hands, he was given a map of the palace and stored what information was there is his own palace. His 'mind palace'. He groaned. There was already enough information stuck in there. He would have to put it in THAT later. But first, he decided to visit the most important person in his life at the present moment.

He knocked on Precia's door and after being allowed in, he entered. He found her where he supposed she would be; on her bed, looking at the ceiling.

"Wonderful thing, the ceiling. Most people look at it when thinking hard, myself included. Makes me think about how our own personal elevation in status has to stop somewhere. Probably why I like outside better than inside. Also why I like big rooms.

Precia looked at him. "What are you talking about?"

Mr Question Mark shrugged. "Stopped asking myself that question a while ago. Better that way. Don't know why but then, I don't know what I'm talking about."

Precia sat up in her bed and turned so that she was facing him and inclined her head a tiny bit. "How did you survive?" she asked. "You were shot in the head. By all rights, you should be dead. And that man. You shot him"

Mr Question Mark leaned against the frame of the door. "People always did tell me I had a thick skull. Knew it would be good for something." He ignored the topic of Carrell and Precia noticed this.

Precia let out a small chuckle at the comment about his skull. She smiled at him. "Good so have you back, Mr Question Mark."

Mr Question Mark gave his own smile in response. "Told you you'd get used to it."

There was a brief silence as Precia remembered what Mr Question Mark was talking about. "Yeah. You did." There was an awkward silence in which the two looked at each, contemplating what to say.

It was Mr Question Mark who broke the silence. "So, I see that Matthew still up tight as ever. Got any friends yet?" he asked.

Precia looked at him "What are you talking about?" he asked.

"Last time I was here, you called me a friend. You don't do that to someone who's in jail unless you don't have any. Well?"

Precia was impressed. "Very good. Sharp as always. And yes. Father finally let me attend school but it was a year after I met you. 8 years attendance but I excelled in my studies. Skipped 3 grades. What about you?"

"Me? Never went to school. Went out and learnt from the world, not in a stuffy classroom."

"No, I mean friends."

Mr Question Mark looked at her, eyes devoid of any feeling or expression. He crossed his arms and leaned further against the frame. "Saved by the bell." He said.

"What?"

At that moment, the door to her room burst open and two people stepped through the doorway. One was a girl of medium height, wearing a brown shirt and pants with green hair which brought out the colour of her orange eyes. Her light features were covered with sweat protruding from her green hair. She wiped her head with a sleeve, huffing and puffing. The other was a boy, taller than the girl wearing a blue shirt and jeans. His brown hair was messy but he wasn't sweating as hard as the girl. His black eyes were focused on Precia.

Precia jumped at the sound and glanced from Mr Question Mark to the two. "Rebecca! Lance! What are you doing here?"

"We heard what happened and came over as fast as we can!" cried the girl, probably Rebecca but possibly Lance. What? Could be possible. "Are you OK?" she asked.

Mr Question Mark snorted from where he stood. "That was 5 hours ago. Fast as you could? Totally, Speedy Gonzales."

Precia glared at him and the two turned from Precia to see him leaning against the frame. Their eyes went wide and the boy (Lance most likely, but possible Rebecca) pointed a finger at him. "You! Wh-what are you doing here!? You're supposed to be in a coma!"

"Hello to you too." Mr Question Mark turned to Precia. "I'll excuse myself. I have better things to do than listen to mindless banter."

"Banter!?" demanded the boy.

Mr Question Mark gave the an odd look. "Yes. Banter. Or do you prefer chitchat?" He walked past Lance (yes, the boy will be Lance just to avoid confusion) talking to himself on the way to his room. "Or conversation? Discussion? Dialogue? Chat? Talk? Man, I need some more synonyms. Exchange?" his voice degraded as he continued walking.

The two watched as he proceeded down the hallway before turning to Precia. She shrugged. "I told you he was odd." She gave a brief smile. "Or unusual. Abnormal? Irregular? Strange?"

Rebecca let out a small laugh. "Now, don't you start. He's a bit different from what I thought he would be. What's he still doing here? What's with his eyes?"

Precia shrugged. "He's my new bodyguard. As for his eyes, dunno. Never went into detail."

Lance sat down in front of her bed as did Rebecca, with a scowl on his face. "Never had anyone talk to me like that before." He said.

Precia gave him a look. "Well, you'll have to get used to it. Shall we get down to the banter? Nitty-gritty? Interchange?"

This earned a smile from Lance before he started laughing. Rebecca and Precia smiled. "So what happened?" asked Rebecca.

"Well…"

Mr Question Mark was back in the room he had woken up in but it was different from when he had entered. In the space between the bed and the wall, there was now a blue box. Mr Question Mark walked up to it and stroked the wood.

"Thank you." He said. "Waiting 9 years." He smiled to himself and pulled out the object hidden inside the fabric of his necktie. It took a while as it was placed up high but eventually it dropped into his outstretched hand. It was a locket on a chain. It was tear-drop shaped, gold in colour and had a large dent in the front. He opened the locket to reveal a key on the inside. Taking the key, he opened the box's door, put the locket back into the tie and opened the box's doors.

Mr Question Mark also paused to observe the greatness of his TARDIS. It always amazed him to look at one of the last remnants of the Time Lords. There were numerous staircases from the main platform that stood in front of him, leading both up and down. On the main platform stood the controls, but he didn't approach them. Inside the TARDIS it was dimly lighted, not like it usually was where there lights above the doors would be lit brightly. Also the controls did not have the same luminescent glow that they usually did. Mr Question Mark sighed.

"Are you always like this? Dropping me off to places in my timeline that are important? Sometimes your early, sometimes your late but sometimes, and I mean rarely, your right on time. You got lucky, Jetstream, very lucky." He used his pet name for the TARDIS because she liked it. She had even told him so. He turned and opened the doors and paused. "I hope you'll have a little more input than you did last time. You remember what happened." And with that he walked out of the TARDIS, locking it as he did so, preparing himself for the adventure that the TARDIS had promised him.

* * *

By the time Precia had finished her story and answered all questions put towards her by Lance and Rebecca it was already dark. Perfect as the day's events had already caught up to her and she was feeling mighty tired. Lance and Rebecca had already left and her parents had come up to her to check on her condition. Not that they looked any better. They had eventually left but she was still awake. Waiting. For him.

There was a knock on the door.

"Come in" he said, feigning a bored voice. The door opened and Mr Question Mark entered with a displeased look on his face. "You should be asleep." He said.

"Then why did you knock?" she countered.

"To see if I got a response." He went to the desk to the side of the room and pulled up the chair, placing it in front of the bed and sitting in it. He outstretched his feet, shoes still on, and put them on the bed. He crossed his arms and gave her a steady look.

"What is it?" she asked after a while, feeling uncomfortable.

"Why were you here?"

"What?"

"Next to me. When I woke up. Why?"

Precia shifted uncomfortably at the question. "Well it was 9 years to the day. I always come once a year."

There was a silence as Mr Question Mark pondered her words. "But you only do that to people that you care about." He said.

"We-Well, I just wanted to make sure that you were alright. You were shot in the head." She said, fidgeting with the covers. There was more silence but it was broken with Mr Question Mark's laughter. He stood up and ruffled Precia's hair. "That's a stupid reason." He said. He put the chair back to its position. Precia adjusted her hair as Mr Question Mark walked back to the door.

"Don't fix up your hair, you're going to bed. You may be 15 or whatever, but you still need sleep."

Precia went underneath the covers in a comfortable position before adding, "What makes the reason so stupid?"

Mr Question Mark turned around and faced her. "The idea that you view me as someone close, some special. I'm hardly that. I'm just a trespasser, but now I'm not that anymore. I'm just the bodyguard, an employee. A brick in the wall. A bit of advice: don't label me as someone who's important. I'm not that. You should be more concerned about yourself and your family. Not me." There was a brief pause. "Good night, Your Highness." And with that Mr Question Mark closed the door.

Precia woke up early that morning. Today was the Event Day, but it was the fact that Mr Question Mark was alive and speaking that encouraged her to wake up early. The Event Day was the one day of the week where all of the cosmos's problems were confronted by the King in order to gain some of his insight. Since it was the holidays for her, she was expected to attend in order to get an idea of what the process what like and what it involved. The problems were presented one of two ways: physically brought or a psychic projection of the person having the problem. Physical problems were handed to the King physically whereas the projections were received on the Data Mind. It was a system where all the conscious minds in the cosmos were situated. If one mind was faced with a problem that was extremely desperate, the consciousness in the Data Mind would present that as a problem and thus Matthew would receive it.

Precia got dressed and was about to walk to her father's chambers when her father walked into hers.

Precia stepped back in surprise. Wasn't Matthew supposed to be receiving problems? Why was he here? She was about to ask but Matthew spoke first.

"Your bodyguard has been helping me with the cases." He said with a grin. "We agreed to him dealing with up to 10 cases of my choice while I get the rest." Precia wanted to protest. 10 cases was the maximum amount of cases on Event Day, in order to prevent clutter in the King's busy schedule. Usually only serious cases were brought in, often none at all. They mostly had to do with crime and criminals with the physical cases whereas the Data Mind cases were rare but covered the same thing as well as mysteries that the person in question was facing.

"But that means-"

"Yep. I get a day off. Finally! Gives me time to rest. Same goes for you today as well. It's your free day as much as mine. If you want to visit…...um, remind me again."

"Mr Question Mark" Precia gave.

"Right. If you want to visit him, he's in his room. I doubt he's finished. Usually took the whole day to solve those cases and mysteries and he's been at it for three hours." Matthew nodded and left.

Precia sat down on her bed. She was always unbelievably bored on Event Day. There was nothing to do. She had seen her father have a look at the cases that were presented and seen how boring the details were, even if they were very gory. Policy on Event Day stated that if the case was not solved on the day, then there was no further obligation to solve it. Today was her day off, not to be cramped up in the castle doing stuff that she didn't want to. That begged the question, what did she want to do today? She made her conclusion and left the room.

* * *

There you go. Mr Question Mark's introduction is complete. Sorry it took so long (one day) but the gaps bewteen chapters will now be longer. the next saga is a crossover, so see Metroid/Doctor Who crossover's for info.

**You stopped my story...*sob***

you know, I don't know why I have such a drama queen as my...

*censored*

**Unfortunately the author is going on long service league so there you go. Anyway I hope you like me, Mr question Mark, and continue to read my adventures.**

**Review if you please**

*gasp, gasp*

**Say you're sorry.**

...


End file.
